


Gravity

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets a lesson in Physics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity

## Gravity

by Silk

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/>

All things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. Not me. Not for profit.

Thanks go as always to Tinnean, my beta, my Muse, and my sister of the heart.

Still rated R, but less bad words than in the previous story. This is still set post-Sentoo 2, but before TSbyBS.

This story is a sequel to: Inertia 

* * *

The Earth sucks. Yeah, it does. I have it on good authority that it does. Of course, it's a damn good thing it does. Otherwise, we'd have no gravity. 

Shit, all this time with Sandburg and I'm starting to sound just like him. Gravity is one of those irresistible forces that comes out of a natural attraction. No, really. That's what the dictionary says. More or less. It also has all this stuff about massive bodies. I suppose that since neither one of us is a planet, we can't exactly qualify. 

On the other hand, "grave consequence, seriousness or importance"? Well, that sounds a little more like it. 

Okay, a _lot_ more like it. 

For the past six months, Sandburg's middle name is Gravity. He doesn't bounce. He doesn't flip his hair behind his ear and let his mouth relax into a grin, like a balloon with a slow leak. He doesn't laugh anymore. But worse than that, he's stopped touching me. 

Yeah, I know, guys aren't supposed to notice other guys. At all. But the kid's always been a touchy-feely kind of guy. What can I say? I got used to it. A hand on my arm here, a pat in the middle of my back there. Oh, it's all completely innocent. 

Well, maybe innocent isn't the right word. I mean, it never led to anything. Did it? 

We're partners. Friends. Unlikely friends. But still and all, _best_ friends. Only...best friends don't hurt each other the way I hurt Sandburg. Things haven't been the same since the fountain incident. 

See? Even now, I find myself calling it some euphemism, as if by renaming it, it could become something else. Something less than the tragedy it was. Something I can compartmentalize and distance myself from...like work. Only it didn't have anything to do with work. It had everything to do with me and him. You can't get much more personal than murder. 

That's what it was, too. Murder. Not an accident. Not an unfortunate occurrence. Alex didn't _attempt_ to kill Sandburg. She succeeded. 

Sandburg believes that I called him back from the Land of the Dead. Must be all that anthropology gone to his head. Mystical mumbo-jumbo. 

(Like the black jaguar and the grey wolf you both hallucinated? How do you explain that, Jim?) Whoa, give me a warning when you're going to do that. I thought I was getting used to the little voices in my head, but apparently not. 

Regardless of how or why he came back, (He came back for you, Jim. Why do you keep lying to yourself...and him?) the important thing is he's alive now. (No thanks to you, Jim. You tried to fuck your best friend's murderer, practically in front of him. How's that for a territorial imperative?) 

Sandburg forgave me. (Then why is your voice shaking, Jim? You've got no possible reason to feel guilty, do you?) 

Sandburg said it _wasn't_ my fault. (Why are you so angry, Jim? Are you angry with him or angry with yourself?) 

Sandburg isn't happy anymore. (What's that, Jim? You're whispering. I couldn't quite make that out.) 

I feel like _I_ killed him. 

(You didn't, Jim. Alex did that for you. But what about afterwards?) 

Afterwards? (When he moved back into the loft. You two never talked about it, did you?) 

It was never the same. _We_ were never the same. (You didn't kill his body, Jim. But you're doing a damn good job of killing the kid's spirit.) 

Why would I do that? I don't want to hurt him. I- 

(What do you want from him, Jim?) 

I- 

(What do you fucking want? Do you even know?) 

I want the old Blair back, I whisper, convinced that I'm going crazy. Talking to yourself is one thing. I'm asking questions _and_ getting answers. 

(Not going to happen, Jim. The old Blair doesn't exist anymore. He lived for you. You were his brass ring, his Holy Grail. He lived to bask in the sunlight of a smile from the great Jim Ellison.) 

Because I make such a perfect lab rat, I say bitterly, tears that I didn't know I had clogging my throat. 

(No, you don't, Jim. The perfect lab rat is someone halfway agreeable, not someone who fights every inch of the way. The perfect lab rat lets other people control him. You're not even close to perfect, Ellison, don't fool yourself. You've been telling yourself that Sandburg only cares about what you can do with those senses for so long, you've convinced yourself that there is _no_ other possible motive.) 

There isn't. What could there be? No friend would go to such lengths to stay in this relationship. (No friend, maybe. A lover would.) 

Sandburg is in love with me? 

How can something that should terrify me make me feel so...hopeful? (His heart beats because of you, Jim. You brought him back from the other side, but you didn't do it just for him. You did it for yourself, too.) 

I can't live without him. 

(Then why are you forcing him to try to live without _you_?) 

I'm not. I- 

I am. I close my eyes and I can see his face so clearly. That radiant smile that he saved for _me_ and no one else. Those impossibly soft curls framing that beautiful face. Eyes the color of a turbulent sea. 

All this time wasted. (You weren't ready. Now you are.) 

What if it's too late? (Only one way to find out for sure, Jim. Make a move and make it count.) 

The minutes pass. I pull out my cell phone and hit speed-dial #1. For the longest time I think, he's not there, he doesn't have his phone turned on, his batteries are dead...and then there he is. 

"H-hello?" 

He sounds so tired. I want to hug him, but the fact that he's halfway across town makes that impossible. Suddenly I am so frustrated, I don't know if I can trust myself to speak coherently. 

"Chief?" (That came out fine, Jim. Go on.) 

"Yeah, Jim?" 

"You want to go out tonight?" 

"I can't work anymore tonight, Jim. I'm flat-out exhausted." 

"Not work. Just...dinner." 

"With the guys?" 

Now he sounds puzzled. 

"Nah, just you and me. What do you think?" 

"Why, Jim?" 

"Do I have to have a reason to go out with my best friend?" 

He can hear the fear in my voice. I know it. He knows how desperate I am to make things right. I don't want him to leave. He can't leave. 

"Yeah, I think you do, Jim." (Did you expect anything else, Jim? Welcome mat is worn out. You'll have to try harder.) 

"We need to talk, Chief." 

"About what?" 

"About us." 

"There is no _us_ , Jim." 

Now he sounds despondent. Shitshitshit. 

"There could be." 

"Could be?" 

" _Should_ be." 

"What are you saying, Jim?" 

"I want to be with you." 

"Could you run that by me again, Jim? Real...slow?" 

I break out in a sweat. I can't breathe. Oh, God, what can I say that will make things right? 

Suddenly I know. But I can't say the words. (If you don't, you'll lose him. Forever.) 

"I love you, Chief." 

"I know, man." 

I can tell he doesn't understand. "I'm _in love_ with you, Blair." 

"Uh huh," he says absently. 

I'm practically frothing at the mouth now. I don't know what else I can possibly say. Grasping at straws, I shout, "I want to make love to you!" 

There's such a long silence that if I weren't a Sentinel, I would swear he hung up the phone. But I can hear him breathing. Suddenly he breaks the silence. 

"What are you doing still on the phone, James? My car won't start and I-" 

I fly out of the loft like the proverbial bat out of Hell. Like I said, there's gravity and then there's _gravity_. It's in the dictionary. 

Look it up. 

* * *

End Gravity by Silk: silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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